


Kid Angel

by Starhunting



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, De-Aged Castiel, Fluff, Kid Castiel, Some Humor, Some angst, Winged Castiel, Worried Dean, Worried Sam, not a complete story
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-16
Updated: 2019-09-21
Packaged: 2020-05-12 15:12:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,288
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19231660
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Starhunting/pseuds/Starhunting
Summary: A few scenes of a De-aged Castiel and bewildered Winchesters.From the story:“Cas?” A scared, tentative voice asked. Castiel looked towards the voice, then craned his neck upward. The man towered over Castiel. His soul radiated comfort and warmth, shining brightly through his emerald green eyes. Castiel knew immediately that the man before him was the righteous man; Castiel’s charge.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I suppose a full story just wasn't in me for this idea. Here's what I could write. I'll revisit if I can come up with something that flows.

Castiel awoke on the ground, taking a moment to blink before sitting up. The sun shone brightly overhead. His clothes sagged over his body, far too large. The shirt sleeves engulfed his arms and the pant legs were so long he couldn’t walk without tripping. 

“Cas?” A scared, tentative voice asked. Castiel looked towards the voice, then craned his neck upward. The man towered over Castiel. His soul radiated comfort and warmth, shining brightly through his emerald green eyes. Castiel knew immediately that the man before him was the righteous man; Castiel’s charge. 

Castiel offered his charge a small smile before his focus moved back to his far-too-long sleeves. These wouldn’t do.

“What the hell happened?” A new voice asked. The new voice belonged to a man even taller than Castiel’s charge. 

Castiel stood up. The pants on his hips nearly dropped down to the grass; Castiel used his grace to tighten the belt and keep the clothes on. Strange that Castiel would wake in clothes that did not fit him. Perhaps he was meant to keep them on until he grew enough to fit them. 

“The witch got the drop on us. Where were you? I shot her, got her arm, but she shot a spell at Cas and now…” The green-eyed man gestured at Castiel. Castiel took a few careful steps towards his charge; his pants made movement frustratingly difficult. His charge caught him before he could fall face-first into the dirt.

“I require scissors,” Castiel said, after a moment.  
__________________________________________________________________________________________  
Dean watched Castiel anxiously through the impala’s rearview mirror. The angel wore only the dress shirt now, sleeves rolled up over his arms. Wide blue eyes watched the world outside fastidiously. 

“Cas?” Dean asked. Castiel turned his gaze to the front seat in answer. “What do you remember?”

Castiel watched Dean for a few more moments before turning back to the window.  
__________________________________________________________________________________________  
Small footsteps padded behind Dean, prompting a look. A three-foot-tall Castiel gazed up at him, enormous black wings trailing behind his little body.

“Whatcha doing Cas?”

The little angel merely blinked up at Dean. After his accidental transformation, Castiel hadn’t been very talkative.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought you’d say,”

Castiel reached out and grabbed Dean’s pant leg when they began walking. Easier to keep up that way, Dean supposed.  
_________________________________________________________________________________________  
Castiel watched avidly as the mother scooped her distressed daughter up into her arms, murmuring soft assurances to ease the flow of tears. He turned to look up at Dean. The hunter’s eyes roved over the bananas, occasionally flicking back to the list in his fist with distaste.

Castiel tugged on Dean’s pant leg. Emerald green eyes flicked over to the angel, who stretched his arms up hopefully. Dean froze. Castiel wanted to be held. 

“Uh, no Cas. We don’t do that. You can walk,”

Castiel’s arms sagged a fraction before redoubling his efforts. Hands clenching and unclenching in a grabby motion, Castiel uttered a small, “Please,”

“No,”

“Dean-”

“I said no, Castiel,”

His expression shifted, and to Dean’s horror, a tear spilled over onto Castiel’s cheek. As Castiel’s arms lowered, more tears fell from his eyes. Castiel did not scream or sob; not a single sound left his body. Big blue eyes watched Dean with unveiled hurt. 

“Why?” Left trembling lips, tugging at the hunter’s heartstrings.

“Ah - no, Cas, Cas, it’s okay. It’s okay! Don’t cry - dammit,”

Dean scooped Castiel up in his arms, giving the angel the chance to tuck his face into Dean’s neck and clutch desperately to the plaid shirt. A strong, comforting scent slowed Castiel’s tears.

______________________________________________________________________  
“Crowley? You called Crowley?” Dean had to keep himself from shouting. The last thing he wanted was to wake the sleeping fledgling in the other room. Dean didn’t know what to expect from the de-aged angel, but sleeping couldn’t be good… could it? 

“Yeah Dean, because currently he is the only person who might know how to get Cas back to normal,”

“And ‘he,’ is standing right here,” Crowley interrupted flatly, “Where is the little guy, anyway?” 

“He’s sleeping,” Dean said, his voice hard. A smug look took over Crowley’s face. He took a step closer to Dean, reaching out a hand. A sudden invisibile force threw the demon across the room, right into the wall. 

Dean looked to his right to see a furious mini Castiel. Castiel had his arm raised, blue eyes glowing. Two long black wings protruded from his back, hanging menacingly in the air.

“You were foolish to come here, demon,” 

Crowley’s eyebrows raised in shock. Dean thought he saw a hint of fear cross the demon’s face. 

“All right now little fledgling - Ah!” Castiel leapt across the room, wings carrying him further faster than Dean could comprehend, and tackled Crowley with unbelievable force. 

Dean did not move until he saw Castiel lift a glowing hand - Castiel meant to smite Crowley.

“Whoa whoa whoa - Cas, stop!” Dean scrambled forward and grabbed Castiel around his waist, “Crowley’s an ally!”

The angel froze in his arms. His little voice came out hard, monotone, “You are in league with this demon?” The way he said it made Dean feel guilty.

“It’s not like that, Cas, he just knows how to fix you an-”

“Let go of me!” Castiel wrestled in Deans grip.

“No, Cas, c’mon man I-”

“Let go!” The tremble in Castiel’s voice made Dean pause. 

“Cas, are you crying?” Castiel wrenched himself out of Dean’s grip. He turned to fix Dean with a watery glare.

“I am not broken,” he growled, swallowing back tears. Dean’s heart sank.

“C’mon Cas you know I didn’t mean it that way!”

Castiel vanished. 

 

Three long days passed before Sam found Castiel moping in his room. Sam paused in the doorway, deliberating about whether he should go get Dean. Castiel always responded to Dean better. Dean had been tearing himself apart with stress and guilt after Castiel’s disappearance. Dean did not sleep or eat, calling other hunters and driving the impala around in the vain hope of finding the angel.

But Sam couldn’t allow Castiel to escape with his back turned. Clearing his throat, Sam stepped into the room.

“Hey Cas,” he said softly. Sam really hoped his presence wouldn’t make Cas leave again. Castiel shifted his eyes to Sam. “Glad you’re back. Me and Dean were really worried about you.” Castiel frowned. 

“Why doesn’t Dean like me the way I am?” Sam gaped like a fish. Castiel had hardly spoken to him after the spell; Sam had to adjust quickly.

“Ah, why do you think he doesn’t like you?” Castiel fiddled with his shirt sleeve.

“He keeps saying he wants to ‘fix me.’ You keep helping him looking for spells to change me. Why… Why am I not enough?” 

“Cas, no - that isn’t - we don’t - ah. You are enough, Castiel. That’s not the problem,” Sam paused a moment, trying to think of a way to explain this to the young fledgling.

“Cas?” Dean’s voice croaked from the doorway, startling Sam. Castiel looked at Dean with wide eyes. Sam could understand why. Dean looked like shit. Dark bags hung under the hunter’s eyes, his shoulders slouched, pace pale. 

Castiel stood and walked over to Dean, hand outstretched. Dean knelt down, meeting Castiel’s hand with his own. One touch banished the fatigue from Dean’s face.

“Where’d you go kid?” Dean asked. Castiel pulled his hand away. Dean didn’t try to mask his hurt.

“Sam and I are having a discussion. We’ll be out in a minute,” The angel said, and promptly shut the door in Dean’s face. He turned and sat in front of Sam. “You may continue,”


	2. Best Friends

Dean woke peacefully. He paused a moment before opening his eyes, enjoying the slow realization that he had his first peaceful night in weeks; maybe even months. Dean couldn't recall a single nightmare.

He opened his eyes. Inches above the hunter’s face were two bright blue orbs, watching him with unabashed interest. 

“You move a lot in your sleep, Dean,” Dean stamped down the instinct to fling the angel’s small form of the bed. He let out a deep breath, attempting to slow his heartbeat after the spike of adrenaline that hit just after he opened his eyes.

“Whatcha doing on my chest, Cas?”

“I’m finished speaking with Sam,” The small angel scooted back a bit onto Dean’s stomach to fold his legs up over Dean’s chest. Small black wings fluttered behind him contentedly.

“Oh?”

“Yes. Things make much more sense now, Dean,” Dean found it difficult to breathe with the little angel on his stomach. 

“Could you - could you move for a sec, Cas? I can’t really breathe,” Castiel shifted over onto the bed on Dean’s right side.

“I’m your best friend, right Dean?” Dean sat up slowly.

“Uh, yeah,”

“That’s why you want to fix me so bad. Because I forgot our friendship,” Castiel beamed as though he had solved all the world’s problems. 

“Well, I mean, yeah-” just how much had Sam told Castiel, and how much did he really understand? Castiel leaned down once more to whisper conspiratorially. 

“I have a secret. I can tell you because we’re best friends, right?” Castiel’s face had never been so open, so hopeful. Any secret the little guy hid couldn’t be anything too big.

“Of course Cas,” Dean allowed contentment to take over his face. Castiel’s anger at him seemed to have abated. The boy’s small hand took his and Dean’s world flipped. Suddenly Dean found himself standing in the dungeon. Crowley laid in the middle of a devil’s trap, eye swollen, hands bound, and mouth gagged. The demon screamed through the gag when he spotted Dean.

Castiel looked up at Dean, chest puffed out in pride. “I have subdued the demon,”


	3. In Which Dean Actually Gets Some Sleep

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Castiel has a nightmare about Dean's time as a demon. Though he doesn't realize his dream is a memory, it troubles him.

Castiel fidgeted with his trenchcoat, standing just outside Dean’s door. His short arms were just long enough to reach the doorknob, but he hesitated. Dark wings trembled behind him.

The door swung open. Dean startled at the small form standing still in the dark of the hallway. He cursed. 

“Dammit Cas! What’re you doing out here?” Castiel couldn’t cease his wings from shaking. Images of Dean with black eyes and a twisted smile haunted him. Castiel hadn’t anticipated having dreams; he certainly never anticipated nightmares.

The light from Dean’s room made it difficult to see his face. Something in his voice softened, “Cas? What’s wrong buddy?” He moved slowly, with care - so unlike the twisted Dean Castiel dreamt of. The man in his dreams fought and attacked like an animal, and ended up restrained like one. 

Castiel moved past him, into the light of Dean’s bedroom. The trenchcoat trailed behind him. Rather than wear it, Castiel had taken to carrying it around with him like a safety blanket. Dean needed to get that article of clothing away from the little angel soon - it was due for a wash.

Something in his small form relaxed when Dean turned. The apple green of his eyes shone in the lamplight. The angel edged forward and grasped at Dean’s sweats. 

“I don’t like my room,” 

“Oh? Uh, alright. There are lots of other rooms in the bunker, Cas, you can - Cas?” Castiel had turned and climbed into Dean’s bed, flapping his wings furiously to get his little body where it needed to be. He stood, bouncing a bit on the memory foam mattress. He nodded his head in approval.

“I will sleep here,” he said definitively.

“That’s not gonna work,” Dean started. Castiel paid him no mind, slipping underneath the sheets and nestling his head into Dean’s pillow. Dean sighed. “Alright, fine. Just for tonight. I’ll go sleep in -”

Castiel sat up abruptly. “No!” Dean froze in his tracks. Castiel hadn’t shouted once since he had been cursed, not even when Dean had tried to convince him to let Crowley go (in the end, he had to distract Castiel with a documentary about honey bees while Sam snuck the demon out). The black wings resumed their trembling.

“I need to stay with you Dean. I can protect you,”

“I don’t know what this is about but I need sleep. And I need my own bed to sleep on,” he neglected to mention his inability to sleep at all that night.

Castiel immediately dropped to the floor to carefully arrange his trenchcoat-turned-blanket on the ground. “I’ll just sleep here then,”

“What’s going on, Cas?”

The fledgling’s lips pursed and his brow furrowed. His troubled eyes met Dean’s.

“I saw a terrible vision Dean,” he whispered, “You were a demon. I can’t allow it to come to pass,” 

The breath left Dean’s lungs and refused to return. Two warring emotions arose in Dean. On one hand, hope rose in his chest. If Castiel’s memories were returning, maybe the spell was wearing off on its own. On the other hand, there couldn’t be a worse memory for Castiel to remember. 

He couldn’t think of a single thing to say.

Instead, Dean moved forward slowly and scooped Castiel up off the ground and into his arms. Immediately quivering wings stilled.

“Dean?” Castiel’s cheek rested on the soft cotton of Dean’s night shirt.

“Don’t say a damn thing to Sam or I won’t let you back in here again,” the hunter said gruffly. He tucked Castiel under the covers before following suit. “No touching. Stay on your side of the bed. Understand?” Castiel watched him with wide blue eyes, and nodded once. 

Dean flicked off the light.

The hunter woke up moments before dawn to find a miniature angel nestled against his shoulder, a small fist wrapped around the fabric of his shirt. Carefully, he wrapped an arm around Castiel and pulled him close. Sam would never find out anyway.


End file.
